


When you bleed (I bleed the same)

by Bohemian (Linguam)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of mission, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Guilty Magnus Bane, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malec, Worried Magnus Bane, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Bohemian
Summary: Magnus watches from the doorway as Alec slowly limps his way across their bedroom, cautious steps bearing no resemblance to the graceful way with which he usually carries himself.This wasn't supposed to happen.





	When you bleed (I bleed the same)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuscleMemory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuscleMemory/gifts).



> Because I'm not beneath resorting to bribery if it might result in some more, delicious fic being offered to this fandom (seriously though, no pressure, MuscleMemory ;) <3).
> 
> Also because I had to channel all the suspense and anticipation of upcoming angst somehow and this is what came of it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Magnus watches from the doorway as Alec slowly limps his way across their bedroom, cautious steps bearing no resemblance to the graceful way with which he usually carries himself.

His every movement is stiff and stilted, tension in every line of his body as he lowers himself onto the bed. The dark blue shirt—a gift from Magnus, now bloody and torn beyond repair—comes off with a series of grunts and winces, revealing a patchwork of painful looking bruises all along Alec’s left side and hip. He doesn’t even bother with the pants, probably knows it will only aggravate his already injured right knee, just levers his legs up, breathing sharp through his teeth.

Magnus knew it was bad, but having all the damage laid bare like this, there is a very real possibility he might actually throw up.

_This wasn’t supposed to happen._

Usually vibrant hazel eyes, now clouded with exhaustion and pain, seek Magnus out where he still hasn’t made a move to enter the room.

Alec's brow wrinkles in confusion.

“Why’re you standing all the way over there for?” He makes a sloppy hand gesture. “C’mere.”

Magnus hugs his arms closer to himself, thumb and forefinger rubbing together until it feels like his skin is starting to chafe.

“Alec, maybe it would be best if—”

“Magnus.”

Shame mixes with guilt as Magnus slowly walks over and sits down on the bed, because Alec wants him here and he shouldn’t—Magnus doesn’t _deserve_ to be here—not when he is the reason Alec is hurting.

He is centuries old. He should be better than this.

Alec just looks at him, eyes sad, as if he can hear Magnus' self-deprecating thoughts. He lifts a calloused hand, knuckles torn, skin in various stages of discoloration, and cups Magnus’ face with a gentleness that makes Magnus’ throat ache.

“Magnus, listen to me,” Alec says, voice low yet brimming with sincerity. “What happened _wasn’t_ your fault. We didn’t have enough intel, things got out of hand. It happens.”

Rationally, Magnus knows that, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that Alec almost died tonight, that he was almost _ripped from Magnus’ life,_ all because Magnus couldn’t do his goddamn job.

No amount of logical reasoning will ever make that okay.

Alec seems to realize this as well and sighs.

“Would you just… lay down with me, please? You need to rest, too,” he says, and, because he's right, and because the last thing Magnus wants is for _Alec_ to worry about _him_ , he does.

Neither of them mentions how Magnus’ hand visibly trembles as he places it lightly on Alec’s chest. The steady thrum of a heartbeat beneath his palm eases some of the fear that has been eating its way through his mind for the last hour. Magic sparks weakly at his fingers, but the eagerness to heal, to sooth sore muscles and mend fractured bones, is no match for his own exhaustion.

Alec’s hand gently closes around his wrist.

“Don’t,” he says quietly. His grip moves until their fingers tangle together. “You’ve used enough magic as it is, Magnus. It’s fine. Really.”

 _It’s really not,_ Magnus thinks, but what he ends up whispering is, “I’m sorry.”

It’s horribly inadequate, but he can’t focus for long enough to offer anything else; it’s on repeat, over and over again in his head: the unexpected increase of demons, the sudden yelp from Jace as one of them clawed him in the thigh, causing him to fall into Magnus, effectively breaking his focus as well as the tenuous hold he had on the spell.

The seconds that followed after the magical backlash threw Alec across the room and into a concrete slab were the longest of Magnus’ entire existence.

Alec sighs unhappily and Magnus closes his eyes, nuzzles into him and simply breathes, through the layers of dirt and sweat and blood, until he finds the scent that is purely Alec.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Magnus,” Alec murmurs after a while. There’s a gentle press of lips against Magnus’ forehead. “But if you need it, I forgive you.”

The sound that is dragged from Magnus’ throat is too raw, too broken, to be anything other than a choked-off sob. He pulls back enough to catch Alec’s gaze and shakes his head in disbelief.

“What am I supposed to do with you, Alexander?”

“I think,” Alec says with that small, crooked smile that never fails to warm Magnus from the inside out, tone teasing yet achingly soft. “This is the part where you kiss me.”

Magnus never could deny him anything.

“I’m okay,” Alec mumbles against his lips; his breath brushes across Magnus’ skin, tangible proof that Magnus didn’t lose him today, that he can keep him, at least for a little longer. “I’m okay.”

One day, Magnus knows, it won’t be enough.

But today, it is.


End file.
